


Tell Me

by abstractaquamarine



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, fluff-ish, only a little sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:39:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8500894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstractaquamarine/pseuds/abstractaquamarine
Summary: Tord is keeping a secret. Tom is determined to figure out what it is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just to clear any confusion, this story takes place before the events of "The End". 
> 
> Enjoy!

Tord was, to put it quite simply, exhausted.

  
It was around two in the morning, and the Norwegian in the red hoodie was seated at the writing desk in his room, working on papers that he had told the others were results of some simple tests he had been running.

  
Of course, it remained a secret that they were actually progress reports on the activity of his thriving army located somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains.

  
It had been hell trying to hide every last bit of evidence of the Red Army’s existence from his roommates. Edd worried about his lack of sleep and small, inadequate meals. Matt was concerned that simply looking at Tord’s exhausted features brought his good looks down a notch - although he still suggested less work out of worry for his friend. But Tom was a different story. Out of all three of the men he lived with, Tom was the most persistent in discovering Tord’s secret. He had sometimes stayed behind at the house just to keep an eye on the scheming Norwegian, and he had almost discovered the thorough plan countless times. But Tord was clever, and managed to meet every one of Tom’s suspicions with a lame excuse.

  
He told himself it would be worth it in the end. After all, he'd only have to stay in this location for just a few months longer before he could book it to the Alps to claim his empire and regain full command.

  
Tord sighed, placing down his overused pencil and looking away from the concept sketch he had been working on. A quick glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table earned a groan from the Norwegian, as Edd had suggested a fun trip to the beach that next morning. Despite the ongoing transition from warm summer afternoons to chilly autumn evenings, the rest of them had agreed. The cola-obsessed male had told them all to be up by 7:30, leaving him with only a few hours to get some decent sleep.

  
The others had gone to bed hours ago, so as Tord began to rise from his seat to head to bed, he wasn't expecting a pair of hands to clamp around his arms and shove him back down into the chair.

  
A gasp flew from Tord’s mouth at the sudden, unexpected physical contact. His muscles tensed as whoever was behind him grabbed onto his wrists and held him in place. His brain hadn't yet caught up to the situation at hand, but his body was already thrashing back and forth in the stranger’s arms, almost as if it had its own mind that demanded action.

  
He struggled against their tight grip, but they were too strong. Every fear from the past month cascaded over him like a wave all at once. Was it the opposing forces coming to haul him away for execution? Had his location been compromised? He had been so discreet, that just couldn't be the case! So who-

  
A feeling of dread suddenly settled in the pit of Tord’s stomach as he stopped moving altogether, frozen in an awkward half-standing position. No…..no, it couldn't be…..

  
“Sup, Commie.”

  
Shit.

  
There was only one person who dared to call Tord by this name. And this person just so happened to be the one, the only…...

  
“Hello, Thomas.”

  
If Tord hadn't been able to identify the man by the nickname he used, several other factors would have given him away eventually. Tom always smelled of alcohol, specifically Smirnoff, which never seemed to leave the Brit’s hand. The faint scent of smoke surrounded him at all times, even if he wasn't an excessive smoker like Tord was. It seemed to just be a part of his natural musk.

  
And then there were his eyes. They say eyes are the windows to the soul. Tom’s eyes were deep and foreboding, daring him to take another step closer. Taunting him for reasons that he would never understand. Slowly unraveling each and every secret he held close to his heart.

  
“What's got you up so late?” The eyeless man stated casually, as if having a normal conversation with a neighbor.

  
“Oh, you know. The usual. Sorting out papers, getting everything in order, heh.” The Norski offered a half-assed attempt at a chuckle to lighten the mood, but it only earned him a snarl from the slightly taller man and a tighter grip on his wrists. He winced and squirmed in place, another weak attempt at an escape.

  
“Hm, is that so? What kind of papers have been troubling you _this_ time?” His voice was laced with an unhealthy dose of venom, almost as if he was preparing to pounce at any moment. His casual demeanor was completely gone, and Tord hadn't even gotten the chance to look at his face just yet.

  
“Analysis reports of the results I've received from some recent experiments.” It took Tord a moment of hesitation to think up a reasonable answer. He was sure Tom noticed the slight pause.

  
Tom adjusted his grip on Tord’s wrists, almost making the Norwegian think that he was being set free. His hopes were dashed, however, when Tom instead moved around the chair so that he could finally have a full view of him.

  
He wore his classic blue hoodie, but his pants were absent, a pair of black and white checkered boxers taking their place. His brown spiked hair was flattened slightly, showing signs that Tom had previously been sleeping. The room was dark, as Tord had already shut off the desk lamp he owned, but the clear frustration and intrigue was sketched into the Brit’s expression like a carving in a tree.

  
“Well then, I suppose you won't mind if I take a quick look at-”

  
“No!”

  
One of Tom’s hands, which had been in the process of lifting a sheet of paper, stopped abruptly. He let it hang there, an unspoken threat.

  
His face was suddenly only inches away from Tord’s. The slightly taller male’s warm, alcohol-scented breath fanned against Tord’s cheeks in waves. “Why so protective, Commie? Got something to hide?”

  
Tord gulped and quickly shook his head, eyes flicking back and forth between Tom’s face and the paper still clutched in his hand.

  
“Ah, then you shouldn't have a problem with me checking up on your progress. Right?”

  
Tord’s eyes fell upon the paper in question once more. He couldn't tell from this angle if it was a crucial piece of information or just a simple signed document, but he couldn't just refuse to let him see it. It would only confirm his suspicions on the Norwegian’s plans. The only thing he could do was to give Tom the answer he was expecting.

  
“O-Of course not. Go right ahead.”

  
Tom grinned triumphantly and pulled back, never loosening his hold on Tord’s wrist. With his free hand, he brought the bright white sheet of paper up to his face. If he had had pupils, Tord may have been able to see if he was reading something or only observing the paper, but unfortunately that wasn't the case.

  
A silence filled with tension descended among them, Tord almost choking on his own breath when he saw Tord’s deep black eye sockets widen. But the Brit still made no attempt to move, or do anything for that matter. He was frozen.

  
This was bad.

  
It didn't even matter at this point if he gave himself away in his actions. Tord tugged desperately at the arm that restrained him, trying to free himself, but Tom’s fist simply curled tighter around his wrist. He had found something, and it clearly wasn't something good. He had to get out of here before Tom could say anything. But that didn't appear to be happening any time soon.

  
The sheet of paper fell out of Tom’s grasp and fluttered to the floor, and now Tord could see that an all-too-familiar symbol had been stamped at the bottom of the paper. His symbol.

  
“Tom, I-”

  
“How long?”

  
“What?”

  
“How long were you expecting to keep this from us??” Tom’s voice raised a few notches, and Tord could suddenly make out the expression of hurt on his face.

  
“I swear, I can explain.”

  
Tom turned and dug through the neat stack of papers, totally destroying at least an hour’s worth of work. “And this? When were you planning on telling us about _this_?” The Brit held up a detailed sketch of a giant red robot.

  
Tord fell silent, staring up at the artwork that had been recently compiled by one of his best soldiers, Paul. He and a few others had been working their assess off to get the mechanical beast done, and the Norwegian had recently received a whole slew of emails explaining the amazing progress.

  
It will only be a few more months, Paul had told him.

  
Tord wondered how he'd react when he found out that one of his housemates knew about the entire project.

  
“N-Never, actually.” Tord replied, keeping his gaze low. He couldn't bear to look up at Tom and see that heartbroken expression on his face.

  
This was one of the main reasons why he had vowed to never tell Matt, Tom, or Edd about the master plan. He knew it would hurt them, to know that after all this time he had only come back to take an extended ‘business trip’ and finish some papers he had fallen behind on. This trip was only supposed to take a few weeks, but weeks soon became months, and before long Tord realized he was actually enjoying himself around his old friends.

  
Which made it even harder to do what he had planned to do all those months ago.

  
Finish the work, and then leave without a trace.

  
A sudden sniffle broke Tord out of his thoughts. He looked up to see tears cascading down Tom’s cheeks, complete and utter despair clear in every aspect of his expression.

  
“Oh god...this must be my fault...you're doing all this because of what I've said to you….because of what I've done to you…” Tom murmured, more to himself than anything, hands reaching up to anxiously tug at his hair.

  
“Why can't I ever do anything right…?” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence, and Tord winced and stood, Tom’s grip having loosened because of his emotional breakdown.

  
“Tom….please, none of this is your fault.”

  
“Then why, Tord? Why are you doing this to us?”

  
Tord could only reply with silence. He thought a moment, then sighed and looked down at the floor. “Because I….I…...I just need to, alright! I have an entire fucking army that is completely prepared to start a full-out war at any moment, and I need to be ready for when that happens! I don't expect you or the others to ever understand, which is why I tried to hide it. I only came here to use this location as a safe spot to work, but from the months I've been here, I've learned that work isn't the only thing that matters in life…” He paused and closed his eyes. “I never meant to hurt anyone, and I just wanted to come and go in peace...but it's so hard to do that now that I’ve remembered the fun we all used to have together.”

  
Tord hadn't yet opened his eyes. He was too afraid to see the Brit’s expression. Tom wasn't saying anything, but after a few moments of silence, he heard, “Remember the time we all enrolled in the army?”

  
The Norwegian was taken aback. He looked up to see a weak smile present on Tom’s face, and that smile was the only thing Tord needed to see to melt his fears.

  
“They nicknamed you Private Bowling Ball because of your shaved head.” He answered, clearly recalling the time they had spent in the armed forces.

  
“And remember the time we ended up in some old ruins underneath the house?”

  
“Of course. We were all almost killed- several times.”

  
There was a pause, and Tom’s arms were suddenly around him, squeezing him tightly. Tord didn't hesitate in wrapping his arms around Tom in response.

  
“Do you really have to go…?”

  
Tord sighed, placing his chin on Tom’s shoulder and closing his eyes. “The robot should be complete in a few months. I will have to go eventually, I can't leave my army unattended forever.”

  
Tom pulled back so that he and Tord could see each other’s faces. There was a clear conflict present in the Brit’s eyes, and Tord could tell he was trying to decide whether he should do something or not.

  
Apparently he decided to do it in the end, because Tom’s face came closer and closer until their lips connected.

  
It was a brief, chaste kiss, but just long enough to create a memory that would be burned into their minds for eternity.

  
“Promise me you'll come back for us one day.”

  
“Tom, I-”

  
“Please, Tord…”

  
The Norski frowned and looked up again to meet Tom’s eyes. He hesitated for a second.

  
Then two.

  
Then three.

  
“I will come back. Somehow, some way, I will come back. For all of you.”

  
And on that day, a promise was made between two old foes. One that was sure to be kept. 

One that would never be broken.


End file.
